Chapter 25 #2
“Wren, what do you think you are doing?” I don’t miss the waver in Christian’s voice.
“Building a theory,” I reply while, in the back of my mind, I remind myself that he refused to sign that birth certificate.
Legally, he has no say in what Lark or I do—unless he applied for a parental responsibility order, but Christian was never that smart, and I’m convinced he didn’t even know that was a thing.
What worries me, though, is that he had my number and somehow knew how to track me.
I can make up any excuse in the world, but right now, a twitch of his lips or his eyes accompanies everything he says. He isn’t speaking the truth, and there’s something more going on. He may have wanted nothing to do with Lark, but he was never a terrible person…or so I hoped he wasn’t.
“That isn’t your car, Wren. Get out,” Christian demands.
Ignoring him, I pop the trunk and look at Autumn. “Do you know how to see if there is a tracker on my phone?”
Her features darken, and her lip curls up in a sneer. “It isn’t your phone I’m worried about.” She looks at Arlo. “Check her car.”
Arlo looks like he’s about to go find an axe in the woodshed, but violence isn’t the way to solve this. Logic is.
“Autumn,” I call, ignoring the way Christian sputters. “Call Kenzie.”
Her eyes light up with excitement, and she literally tosses the bat at my feet. I’m not crazy like she is, but I want Christian to have it even less, so I pick up the bat, surprised by the weight of it.
Proving my theory correct, I find Christian’s trunk packed to the brim with everything he owns.
“Why are you here, Christian?” I cross my arms.
I can see his face a little clearer now, my adrenaline not only giving me false bravado, but the sense that I’m not concussed. Flipping my sunglasses up onto my head, I look at him. I mean, I really look at him.
His short, cropped hair looks a few weeks past a much needed haircut, with his dark brown strands flipped up in places.
Dark circles rim his eyes, and his complexion looks almost sallow.
The boy I once knew is nothing but a memory underneath all the layers of this man.
His anger turns palpable, and I’m not buying that he showed up here because of us for one minute.
“I told you, baby.” He reaches for me, but Arlo holds him back, his body tense and vibrating with fury. “I want to mend things between us.”
“Your daddy cut you off.” I point at him, then to the car, and back at him. “I am even willing to wager that you have little gas in this car anymore, do you?”
“Wren, don’t talk about things you don’t understand.” He doesn’t let up, instead choosing to deflect and belittle me.
I grew up in the same town, with the plantations not far away.
One in which his family lived for generations.
Christian comes from old money. He’s lived his entire life on the blood and sweat from his grandfather and so on and so forth.
It was one reason he didn’t support me when that line turned pink.
Him being here today, wanting something to do with Lark, with a packed car and seeking to mend our relationship that took place over thirteen years ago is no coincidence.
“The way I see it, you are here because of your parents.” A cool breeze ruffles my curls, dusting them across my face.
“Wren, can we talk about this elsewhere?” Christian cajoles, his voice smooth like honey, though his eyes dart toward the others.
“Why don’t we all go inside and talk about this?” Autumn inserts, stealing her bat back and swinging it around with a crazed look in her eyes.
Though a small part of me wants to encourage that crazed look.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arlo reasons, his voice even, but there’s a volatile thread underneath. His eyes give nothing away, and a slight flare of worry trickles up my spine—worry that this might just break us apart, and I don’t want that.
I chose him this weekend, and nothing in this world will change that for me. I can only hope that he feels the same, despite Lark’s father showing up out of nowhere.
“You have no say in this, man, so back off.” Christian’s face flushes with irritation, his fists balled at his sides.
We’ve hit the nail on the head.
“You have ten minutes to explain why you are truly here, or I’ll call the local sheriff.” Arlo crosses his arms, staring down his nose at Christian. He truly dwarfs the other man, but Arlo doesn’t wear his size as a shield.
Christian scoffs, then Autumn cackles, making him stop.
Yeah, if the crazy one cackles, everyone should stop and listen. Even the very first time I met Autumn, I knew that if she cackled, it was a terrible sign.
“Fine.” Christian shivers a little, and though it is freezing, not one of us moves away, including the Larson girls, whom Christian eyes warily. “You’re right—my father cut me off because I never mended the relationship with you and Lark.” He sighs in defeat.
“They told me to—”
He slashes his hand through the air. “I know what they said, I know what I said then, and nothing in this world will make up for it.” He runs his hands through his hair, pulling out strands here and there.
“Why not just lead with the genuine reason you showed up instead of a smoke screen?” Arlo still doesn’t budge, but those brows of his draw closer.
“Because Wren never would have listened. She’s stubborn like that.”
“I’m still not really listening, but do go on.” I roll my hands like a princess.
“My father told me to mend the relationship and introduce his granddaughter to him, and then Lark will receive her trust fund.” Christian groans. “And he will start my allowance again.”
I stumble backwards, pushing away from the car to stalk to the porch steps, where I slump.
This is not what I expected.
“How much?” Arlo asks Christian, but his eyes burn through me as he watches me.
“Lark’s trust?” He blows out a breath. “A million, easy.”
I bury my head in my hands, refusing to look at any of them. For me, the answer is simple. No, never. I wouldn’t bring Lark to the ones who told me to give her up so it wouldn’t look bad on his record, n ot in a million years.
Then everything hits me. “They’re funding a case for custody.” Fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt in all of my life practically strikes me down.
“I’m sorry, Wren.” For the first time since he showed up, Christian sounds utterly defeated and genuinely apologetic.
Now I’m not just fighting against Christian, who I could easily work with, I’m fighting against old money for my kid.